


Aim No Higher

by partofthenarrative



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: I'm so sorry for this, forgive me i just needed somewhere to put this idea., this entire story is just one big y i k e s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/partofthenarrative/pseuds/partofthenarrative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"one, two, three, four, five, six, seven-"</p><p>a gunshot rang out, a scream echoed through the theater. </p><p>anthony was expecting the gunshot sound.<br/>he wasn't expecting a bullet to rip through his chest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. un

**Author's Note:**

> ephraim sykes is the person that plays george eacker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry if there were any mistakes in this!

“That’s so awesome, thank you so much!” Lin excitedly waved goodbye to the fans as they rushed off to find their seats. They worked at a historical museum, and as a gift to the cast, had given them replicas of the guns used in Hamilton and Burr’s duel in 1804. He ran his fingers over the intricate metalwork, and he appreciated the amount of work that must have gone into making these.

“Whoa, my god, those look incredible,” Leslie remarked, peeking over Lin’s shoulder. “Did they just give you those?”

Lin nodded. “I was thinking that we could use them for ‘The World Was Wide Enough’ instead of our other prop pistols!”

Leslie laughed. “Yeah, sure. They’re stunning. But shouldn’t you clear it with the prop master first?”

“Nah, no need. Just don’t lay your finger on the trigger, Odom,” Lin joked. He knew that the guns didn’t work- they couldn’t. Leslie shook his head and smiled as he took the pistols to show everyone, and Lin slinked back to his dressing room to change costumes for ‘It’s Quiet Uptown.’

Meanwhile, everyone in the cast that was backstage were gawking at how gorgeous the guns were. 

“Damn, those are sick! Can Ephraim and I use them for ‘Blow Us All Away?’” Anthony grabbed the gun from Leslie, eyes sparking at the sight of something so… _cool._

“Yeah, Lin and I are using them for ‘The World Was Wide Enough,’ anyway.” He handed the other gun to Anthony, laughing at his expression. It was pure amazement . His preoccupation with the guns almost made him missed his cue- but Phillipa’s hauntingly beautiful singing brought him back to attention.

“Oh, shit, ‘Burn’ is on right now. I gotta go, Les.” Anthony said as he was walking to the wings to get onstage.

“See you on the other side,” Leslie said. And Anthony knew he meant it full-heartedly, with all good intentions. But something about the way Leslie said it made him feel uneasy.

The guns were handed off to the propmaster, and Anthony’s heart fluttered as the beat to ‘Blow Us All Away’ began to play.

_Meet the latest graduate of King’s college..._

Performing was everything to Anthony- he never thought he’d make it, but here he was. Broadway. The lights were warm, but the stage was where he felt the most comfortable. Safe. Everyone in the cast was just one huge family, and from the moment Anthony was called back for the role of John Laurens and Philip Hamilton, he knew that he belonged.

_But what if he decides to shoot? Then I’m a goner._

It was an inside joke that Anthony always died, and that it always had to be him. John Laurens dies every night, Philip Hamilton dies every night. And acting, to Anthony, was always about making himself believe that he was actually that character. 

But there was no amount of rehearsals that could have prepared him for this.

_Look him in the eyes, aim no higher._

Anthony spoke the words shakily, to reflect that Philip was scared out of his damn mind. Philip hadn’t ever hurt a soul. And neither had Anthony.

_Summon all the courage you require._

He glanced backstage to his right. Lin was there, like he always was, smiling at Anthony. He was so proud. Lin had always been proud of him, even before Hamilton was barely an idea in his head. Lin believed in him, and that was enough to get him through stage fright every single night.

_Then slowly and clearly aim your gun toward the sky._

The pistol felt different in his hands. The weight was the same, the size, but the feeling it carried was different. Something was wrong. But the show had to go on. The show always goes on.

_One, two, three, four, five, six, seven-_

A gunshot rang out, and a scream echoed through the theater.

Anthony was expecting the gunshot sound.  
He wasn’t expecting a bullet to rip through his shoulder.

_holyshitholyshitholyshit was that a fucking gun did i just get shot what the fuck is going on what the fucking-_

Anthony’s mind was quieted by the fact that the show still went on. He had a bullet in his shoulder. The pain was digging its claws through every vein that spiraled through Anthony’s body, but the show still fucking went on.

It was the Stay Alive reprise. And Anthony laughed internally, bitter at the world.

Ensemble members lifted him up onto a table, like they did every night.

Lin came running in next to him, like he did every night.

But Lin’s eyes. Oh, god, his eyes. When Lin saw blood spreading across Anthony’s shirt, his eyes widened. He with pain so much so that Anthony thought Lin was shot, too. Anthony was writhing in pain, and Lin couldn’t do anything about it. The show still had to go on. He would get an ambulance as soon as he got offstage. He would cry for help, he would- he would-

The guns.  
The replicas.  
They were real.

_Take my guns._  
Be smart.  
Make me proud, son. 

Lin was sobbing, hysterical, and all the audience was thinking was how incredible of an actor he was. Phillipa came rushing in, graceful as ever, and suddenly stopped in her tracks when she saw the blood. Red. All she saw was red. Was this real? Or was it simply a directing change that she had missed?

They had never used blood. They never used fake blood. They never used blood during this scene. She had convinced herself that she was hallucinating, or she simply forgot- and that the blood was an added effect.

But Lin’s eyes told her otherwise.

She screamed in agony, out of character. But at the same time, she was the most in character she had ever been since opening night. Anthony was taking small sips of air, afraid that he would break down into hysterical sobs instead of finishing his song.

Anxiety arose in Lin and Phillipa. The counting was coming.

_Un, deux trois, quatre, cinq, sept, huit, neuf._

Anthony sang the little melody, and with every note, became quieter.

_Un, deux, trois…_

And the theater was suddenly filled with a deafening silence. It ricocheted off the walls, and pierced the heart of every member in the audience.

Phillpa couldn’t even bring herself to scream.


	2. deux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoOOoO I WASN'T EXPECTING THIS MUCH ATTENTION HELLO HI I'M SORRY.  
> (you know your first fic is good when all the comments are "WHAT THE FUCK.")

He wasn't dead.

Anthony wasn't dead.

All he did was blink, and Lin knew that he was fine.  As the turntable spun them offstage, Lin carried Anthony onto a different table.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Lin yelled, tears in his eyes, heart thumping at an unhealthy rate. He wanted to call himself, and he wanted to comfort Anthony, but the into to 'It's Quiet Uptown' started playing.

"Go, Lin," Anthony strained. "You have to. It's your cue."

Lin smiled sadly and wiped his tears from his cheek as he stumbled onstage, full of hurt and sadness. It was his idea to use the stupid guns.

Phillipa was already onstage, but she couldn't remain composed. She was supposed to stand cold-faced and still, but her shoulders were shaking and she had to wipe her tears constantly.

When he had the chance, Lin gave her a look that hopefully conveyed "he's going to be okay," and Phillipa gave him the smallest nod in return.

\- - -

Backstage, Ephraim was crying and yelling hysterically, trembling with the gun still in his hands.

"I shot him, I shot him!" He kept yelling this, his blubbering almost intelligible. 

"Slow down," said Leslie, trying to calm him down.  
"What the hell are you talking about, Ephraim?"

"I..." he took a few breaths to try and steady himself, but to no avail. "I shot... Anthony," he cried. Leslie raised an eyebrow.

"You do every night, Ephraim." Suddenly, Leslies eyes widened and he began to laugh. "Oh! This is one of your jokes again, huh? Damm, I can't catch on fast enough, dude. But that's not something to joke abou-"

"It's not a joke!" Ephraim yelled, and suddenly Anthony was backstage, being wheeled on the prop table that he laid on.

"Someone call an ambulance!" Wait, was that Lin?

Leslie's heart started racing, and he could hear the yelps of pain coming from Anthony. He didn't want to look, but out of the corner of his eye all he could see was Anthony's shirt soaked with blood.

"You weren't... joking." Leslie stared off into space, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Ephraim shook his head and ran to Anthony, who was gasping and choking on air.

"Anthony, I'm so sorry, oh my god, I didn't know, what the fuck happened?" Ephraim tried to string a coherent sentence together.

Anthony shook his head. "You didn't know," he said weakly.

"Don't pull that shit, Anthony. Oh, my god, I'm so sorry, I..." 

"It's okay. It's okay, Ephraim, I'm gonna be okay, yeah?" It took all the strength Anthony had to say that, but it seemed to calm him down.

"Okay," he sniffed. "Yeah. Yeah, you'll be fine. You'll be okay."

Paramedics came rushing in and moved Anthony to a real stretcher as quickly as possible. It all happened in a blur- everything was moving too quickly. After a quick conversation, they took one of the ensemble members to go with him. No one else could- they still had a show to do. They rushed him back out, and as soon as they left, Jasmine came rushing from her dressing room, screaming for Anthony to come back. There was mumbling from other cast members, spreading the story around. There were gasps and crieds and looks of hope as he was wheeled out the theater. And suddenly, it was silent again. In the eye of a hurricane, there is quiet for just a moment. 'It's Quiet Uptown' had ended, and the world was frozen. 

"Ephraim," Jasmine's voice was sharp and icy.

"You..."

"Not on purpose."

Their words barely communicated anything, but they were packed with every emotion.

"He's going to be okay."

"How the hell would you know?" Jasmine's voice cracked, and her shoulders shook violently. She slumped to the floor, right next to Ephraim's feet.

He sat down next to her, rubbing her back.

"He's strong, Jasmine." He knew his words were empty. None of them knew if he would make it out alive. But all they could do was hope for the best.

And if Jasmine could just see Anthony one last time, that would be enough.


End file.
